Duets: Part Deux
by bxblover
Summary: It's senior year, & Mr. Schue holds another duet competition. But this time the pairs are chosen by 'Fate' So, who's singing with whom? A group story, but main focus is Kurt and Klaine.
1. The Drawing

Title: Duets Part Deux

Started: 6/6/11 3:30 p.m.

Finished: u/k

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.

**A/N: I started writing this **_**before**_** the announcement was made that Chord wasn't coming back for season three, but I'm really attached to what I wrote between him and Mercedes, so just to warn everyone, this story already strays from canon.**

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><p>Kurt did his best to keep from nuzzling into the warm gray fabric of his boyfriend's Polo shirt. Nuzzling in school wasn't very dignified. He settled for being curled to Blaine's side and squeezing his arm tightly while they sat together at glee practice, waiting for Mr. Schuester to come in. And who would blame him for holding his boyfriend so close? They were going to the same school again, singing in the same glee club, and hopelessly in love. And so far Blaine was doing great at McKinley. He had endured his first slushie facial with dignity and bravery, and he was a welcome member of New Directions. Barely a week into practice and already he was acting as sort of a diplomat, keeping the arguments within the club from getting too heated with cheerful grins and tender speeches. He fit right in.<p>

Blaine looked down, and saw Kurt staring at him. The countertenor smiled, long past the stage of blushing whenever he got caught gazing at his boyfriend; especially since he caught Blaine staring at _him_ just as often.

The older teen grinned back and kissed his forehead. Since Kurt was already clinging to him like a barnacle he settled for stroking his fingers back and forth over a muscular bicep. They weren't afraid of being affectionate towards each other, especially in glee club; they were just a relatively discreet couple.

Mr. Schue finally stepped into the choir room, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"Okay guys, now while we have time before any official competition how about we work on getting back into our groove? Revisit one of our old standbys?"

"A tribute assignment to one artist," Finn supplied from the top riser.

Mr. Schuester faltered as he walked over to the white board. "Uh…no, not yet."

"Third annual Boys versus Girls," Kurt asked defensively, gripping Blaine's arm tighter as if he could drag his boyfriend with him. He was _going_ to be on the girl's team this year, damnit!

"N-no, we're—"

"Another controversial musical for a disastrous attempt at wooing—" Rachel started, but Mr. Schue interrupted.

"No, no! Guys! Our _second_ annual Duets competition! And once again, the prize will be a free dinner for two at Breadstix!"

There were murmurs of approval all around the room, but it fast turned into a grabbing tournament for partners.

"Finn and I will be partners!"

"Tina's mine!"

"Obviously Blaine and I—"

"Hold it, hold on guys." Mr. Schue held up his hands with a laugh. He walked to one of the shelves, pulling off the top hat resting there. He grabbed a piece of paper and started writing on it. He then ripped it up into small pieces, tossing them into the hat. "You guys usually pick your own partners, ones you _know_ how to sound good with. So to give you an extra challenge we'll take a page from our ballad assignment, and let your partners be chosen…by fate." He finished with a mischievous waggle of his brows.

This announcement wasn't met with as much enthusiasm. Blaine looked over at Kurt in curiosity, and the younger teen just whispered to wait and see. Rachel, ever one to rally the troops, (even when it wasn't all that necessary) beamed at their coach.

"I think this is a great idea Mr. Schuester. Without a looming competition at the forefront of our minds this will be a great opportunity to stretch our vocal abilities and further bond as a team."

Mr. Schue grinned at her eagerness while most of the group rolled their eyes or groaned at her. "Exactly Rachel. So how about you kick things off for us and come pick out a name?"

She grinned and bounded up to the top hat resting on the piano. Her smile quickly vanished as she read the paper.

"Mike Chang," she said dismally.

Kurt chuckled behind his hand, even though most of the group were outwardly laughing or ooh-ing at Rachel's outraged expression. Even Mr. Schuester was trying to hide his grin. "Alright Rachel, just remember: you have to sing _together_."

Rachel's mouth tightened and her hands clenched into fists, the first warning signs of a classic Rachel Berry Storm Off. "You do _not_ have to recite the definition of a duet to _me_ Mr. Schue," she reprimanded, before whipping around and stomping back to her seat. Finn wrapped an arm around her with a warm smile and Mike just smirked at her in a strangely sympathetic way.

Mr. Schue called Artie to the piano next.

"…Santana," Artie almost whispered. Santana rolled her eyes and turned away, pretending to be distracted by a curl in her ponytail. Everyone was polite enough not to say anything this time, and Kurt even offered Artie a small smile as their token nerd rolled back to his place. Over the summer everyone had discovered all the details surrounding the Bartie disaster, including Santana's involvement. Santana was still denying being a lesbian, and still denying publicly that she had feelings for Brittany. Any time someone tried to broach the subject the Latina quickly threatened violence and poisoning of their lunch, so they just decided not to talk about it. Kurt could only imagine how _awkward_ this assignment would be for them.

"Sam?"

The blonde smiled down at the paper then over at the risers. "Mercedes."

Kurt looked over at his best friend and saw her eyes gleaming brightly as she smiled at Sam. His brows furrowed, but he didn't have time to analyze her expression, because he was called to the piano next. He reluctantly uncurled his arm from Blaine's and approached the top hat with a great deal of hopefulness. Maybe he would be partnered with Blaine and they could show the group just how a good duet was supposed to be done. His hopes were dashed when he read the paper between his fingers. "Puck."

He turned around and most of the club was laughing again at the bizarre partnership. Puck only shrugged and smirked readily, and Blaine was nodding pensively. He reluctantly sat down as Mr. Schue called Lauren up to the piano.

"We can always do a duet of our own," Blaine whispered to his ear, making him shiver. "We sound amazing together anyway."

The brunette smiled as Lauren announced Tina as her partner. "Very true. And we always go to Breadstix, it's time for some variety."

"Finn," Mr. Schue called.

His stepbrother took out a piece of paper, and stared bemusedly at it for a minute. "Blaine," he said, mirroring the shocked voice he had two years ago when Kurt was assigned to be his ballad partner.

Kurt was busy chuckling behind his hand again, and Blaine was blinking, although he didn't look displeased, while Finn was stuttering out a protest.

Mr. Schuester only smiled. "Need I remind you? The Fates have spoken Finn."

Finn mumbled to himself while he sat back down. Mr. Schue looked down at his sheet. "Okay, it looks like Quinn and Brittany are our last duet pairing! Good luck you guys, and um…have a song ready by Friday!"

The club slowly began to separate, everyone moving to meet with their partners, until Mr. Schue added, "Oh! By the way…you can only pick songs from _before_ the year 2000. Just another little challenge for you guys to think about," he said with a grin.

As he strode to the white board with a whistle, everyone stared at his back, a little dumbstruck at the strange twist to the assignment.

"Great," Puck said in agitation, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Our first assignment of senior year, and we're already royally screwed."

TBC

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><p><strong>I swore I wouldn't post an unfinished multi-chap ever again, but…gah! This story's been SCREAMING at me, and I just can't resist anymore! And I promise, I'll try to finish it! Honestly, what do you think guys? Worth going on, or leave it alone? Once more, I don't say this often enough, but thank you all for the lovely comments and faves. You rock my socks. :)<strong>


	2. Monday

Title: Duets Part Deux – Chapter 2.

Started: 6/6/11 3:30 p.m.

Finished: u/k

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.

**A/N: Not in chronological order, but rest-assured, they all occur on Monday some point after glee club…I'm pretending glee club happens in the morning for now, lol.**

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><p>"You know, this would be a lot easier if you would actually contribute a song idea or something." Mercedes briefly looked over her shoulder at Sam while scrolling through her iTunes library.<p>

Her boyfriend shrugged from his seat on the bed and moved to lean against her desk. "Okay…how about…_Secret Lover_?"

She bit her lip to stop her smile; little good it did. "Uh, no."

"_My Girl_," he suggested with a grin.

"White boy, we are _not_ gonna do the Temptations," she scolded with a laugh. "And you're not picking really subtle songs here."

Sam tilted his head. "What if I don't want to be subtle?"

Mercedes paused and looked up at him in surprise.

He met her gaze and gently took her hand, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. "Mercedes, the way I feel about you…I don't want to be subtle anymore."

She was speechless, so Sam, still holding her hand, knelt down so they were eye to eye as he explained. "I see the other couples in glee club, how happy they are to be together and how proud they are to show it. It's like we were all using revolving doors until we got to the right people." Mercedes didn't quite get the strange metaphor, but she chose not to interrupt. "And since I know that you're the right girl for me, I'm ready for them to know it too."

He squeezed her hand, and her lower lip trembled.

"Are you sure," she asked, her voice cracking. She desperately wanted to share how happy she was with all their friends, but she didn't want Sam to feel pressured either.

His handsome face spread into a confident smile and he cupped her cheek with his spare hand. "Positive. I love you Mercedes."

She let out a shaky laugh, tears filling her eyes. She'd been so afraid that someone would never care for her romantically; that she would be forced into the role of 'sassy brassy best friend,' and never have a relationship of her own. But with Sam she found someone who loved her the way she'd always dreamed. And now she could shout it from the rooftops like she had wanted to from the beginning.

"I love you too Sam," she whispered. Okay, not quite shouting from the rooftop yet, but it was a start.

Her boyfriend smiled, then leaned in and kissed her, his mouth reassuring and warm. As they parted she grinned mischievously, trying to hide the blush she _still_ got whenever they kissed.

"Alright. Since we've got that settled, I think I have the perfect song for us."

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><p>Blaine sat at a stool on the stage of the auditorium, occasionally looking up at Finn, who was getting an eerie sense of déjà vu at his seat on the piano bench. This was only a little less awkward than when he was partnered with Kurt. At least Blaine wasn't staring him down expectantly, like he was hoping for a sudden declaration of love.<p>

"So," Blaine started, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "Um…I was informed about the last time you guys had your partners chosen by Fate. You had to sing a ballad to Kurt, huh?"

The older teen nodded, wringing his hands together. "I'm beginning to think the Fates have it in for me," he joked.

"Kurt said you might think that."

Finn smirked teasingly. "Got Kurt on the brain, huh?"

Blaine blushed, and a smile lit his face but he changed the subject. "You don't think it'll be that bad to sing together, do you?"

"No, not _bad_, just…awkward. I mean I can live with what people might say about doing a duet with another guy, I'm over that. But it's really, really weird to sing a love song with your brother's boyfriend."

Blaine flushed even redder and lurched back in his seat. "Whoa, whoa, who said anything about love songs?"

"W-well I thought most duets are…romantic and…stuff, you know," Finn stuttered, his face red.

"Well, yeah, you have a point. But there are also a lot of them about friendship and stuff. Hell, we could even pick songs that are done by singles and just rearrange them into duets, but for God's sake, no love songs! That would just be…no, no. Way too uncomfortable."

Finn blinked, then nodded, latching onto Blaine's idea. "Y-yeah, a single. Like what you and Kurt did at Regionals last year, right?"

"Exactly," the ex-soloist said, deciding not to tell Finn that the performance he was referring to was very romantic and probably not the best example for their situation.

"Okay…okay, yeah, we can do that. But can our song be sung by a guy," he asked nervously.

Blaine smiled. "Of course Finn."

Finn nodded again, but with more certainty this time. "Cool."

"…Cool."

The boys waited a beat, then smiled at each other from across the stage.

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><p>Mike cradled a notebook as he struggled frantically to keep up with Rachel. He was trying to listen to her as they sped through the hall, but she was talking a mile-a-minute.<p>

"Now Mike I don't want you to worry about a thing. I have a very versatile repertoire, and I can easily drum up a duet with a powerful female lead. Granted, my vocal abilities are exquisite and yours are…excruciating." He frowned at the back of her head, but she didn't falter in her rapid march to her next class.

"So, I'll bribe the band for you. The louder they play, the less likely the audience will notice how horrible you sound, particularly with me as your partner. I'll also pick a booming, powerhouse, dramatic number so they'll be distracted by my vocal passion. And of course you'll have to do your little dancing thing. You know," She stopped abruptly, and Mike almost ran into her, barely able to stop himself in time. A broad, inspired grin spread across her face and she started walking again.

"_Maybe_, if you do enough spins and back-flips and jumps, we can get away with letting you lip sync! Of course we'll have to be very careful with the song choice, but you know what they say: Razzle Dazzle 'Em! Now, my dads are going out of town again, and unfortunately they somehow found out about The Rachel Berry House Party Train…whatever. The point is, now I'm absolutely forbidden to have guests while they aren't home, so we'll have to rehearse at your house. But between vocal exercises, practicing paparazzi poses and other activities that help prepare me for my certain future as a star, I'm only available between four-thirty and six-thirty. You may call or text me whenever you decide what day you'd like to practice. Except Thursday. Thursday I'll be out shopping for more gold stars." She stopped in front of her next class and spun around, smiling up at him. "I must say Mike, I'm really looking forward to our duet together." She patted his arm. "See you!"

She strode into the economics classroom, leaving Mike standing helplessly at the doorway, and effectively blown over by Hurricane Rachel.

"Yeah Rachel, me too. See you in glee practice," he muttered to himself, finally gaining enough mobility to trudge over to Spanish class.

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><p>Santana sighed blandly as she filed her nails, waiting in the library for Artie to meet with her about their duet assignment. Or at least the sign on the door said it was the library. She'd only ever used the room as a place to bring people she planned to make out with.<p>

There was a quiet giggle off to her side, and at first she didn't pay any attention to it, inspecting her nails fastidiously. But then the giggles continued; high grating sounds followed by, "that's her right? She's the lesbian? The one in glee club?"

Santana looked up to see a couple sophomore girls standing near the encyclopedias, huddled together and staring at her. But the moment they saw her looking at them they whipped around, exchanging hushed whispers against the bookshelf.

The Latina growled and almost broke her nail file in half as she gripped it in her fist. Santana _spread_ rumors she wasn't the _subject _of them. Who did those bitches think they were? She was so sick of all the crap she was hearing, or almost hearing, wherever she went at this school. Except glee club of course.

Ever since Karofsky 'broke up' with her she'd been left to fend off all the rumors by herself. She scoffed mentally as she recalled his excuse; something about ensuring their status if they went on again and off again like all the other couples at the school. For Karofsky it seemed to be working just fine, but he managed to convince one of the younger Cheerios to make out with him in the home-ec room. For Santana it was a little bit harder; she couldn't find a guy she could stomach a fake make out with.

"Hey," She heard, and looked up to see Artie rolling towards her, his eyes downcast. He stopped next to her table and leaned back in his wheelchair. "Alright, let's get this over with. What song do you want to sing for glee club?"

Santana's eyes travelled back to the giggling sophomores, and a devious smile spread over her face. She set down her nail file and stood up, sauntering over to Artie.

"I'll sing whatever you want me to Wheels." She said it in a purposefully loud, seductive voice, leaning over him and bracing her hands on the arms of the wheelchair.

He looked up at her, perplexed and slightly fearful. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged and languidly slid onto his lap. "The last time we did duets you hooked up with a Cheerio. This time you'll just hook up a hotter one."

Artie wasn't exactly cooperating. In fact he just looked creeped out. "Uh…_you're_ coming onto _me_?"

She started playing with the collar of his sweater and ran a hand through his hair, trying to invoke some kind of positive reaction. "I'm doing my part for the handicapped community by getting our resident cripple laid while he still has a shot in hell of getting a girl. I mean let's face it, after you graduate your sex life is gonna drop from pathetic to nil."

She made a show of leaning in for a kiss, but Artie jerked back abruptly, dodging her lips. "Santana, I understand that you're trying to dispel those gay rumors by making semi-public advances on random guys, but this is just embarrassing."

That stopped her cold. She turned around and saw that the girls from earlier were gone, so she scrambled off his lap. She was virtually snarling at him but otherwise unfazed, making a big show of crossing her arms petulantly.

"Alright, look McLame, I have nothing to _dispel_. I'm not gay."

He nodded as he adjusted his sweater. "I know."

"…You do?"

"Sure. And if you want, I can start a rumor that we did the nasty back next to the sci-fi section while rehearsing for our duet. But I won't put either of us through doing the actual act."

Santana squinted at him in surprise and studied his face critically, trying to guess his angle. "Why would you do that for me? If I were you I'd be plotting out the best places in the school to run me over."

He shrugged miserably. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"But why? By all rights you should hate me. I know I hate you."

Artie stared up at her, and the Latina's bitchy façade faltered for just a second when they finally made eye contact. His face was etched with worry lines that looked out of place on someone so young, and there was pain and loneliness burned into his tired eyes. There was a slight undercurrent of anger, but for the most part he just looked like someone had trashed his Xbox. She felt her heart cracking with something vaguely familiar to sympathy.

"I _want_ to hate you, Santana. Believe me. But I can't do it. Not when Brittany loves you so much," he whispered.

Santana froze, and watched numbly as he turned his wheelchair around. "I'm not really up for thinking about a duet today if you don't mind. Just text me when you think of something and I'll sing whatever you want."

As he rolled away Santana felt a knot of guilt clenching in her stomach. Because for the first time, in all years that she'd known him, that boy in the wheelchair looked truly broken.

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><p>Kurt sighed impatiently at Puck as he strolled into the choir room. They had a very limited time slot for a private rehearsal in the choir room, and the idiot just cost them ten minutes.<p>

"You're late, Puckerman," he scolded, staring at the music sheets he was thumbing through.

"Sorry man," he said, sounding utterly unrepentant. "I managed to squeeze in a few minutes with Lauren in the janitor's closet."

Kurt balked at the thought. "No need to elaborate, just don't let it happen again. Now let's hurry up and choose a song for our duet."

"Okay, okay," Puck said casually, dropping onto the piano bench with Kurt. He peeked at the title of a music book curiously as he ran a hand through his Mohawk. "So what glamorous Broadway tune are we jamming to?"

Kurt didn't even look up. "Excuse me?"

Puck just shrugged and picked up a stack of papers. "I kind of figured we'd do an old showtune or something. That's usually what you sing, right? I always assume that if you're singing it, and it's not Lady Gaga or the Beatles, then it's from a musical."

The countertenor leaned back in his stool, slightly offended, but he chose not to acknowledge it. "We don't _have _to do a showtune Puck. This is a team effort after all. We could do folk music, indie, rock—"

Puckerman cut him off with a laugh, still thumbing through sheet music. "Yeah, Kurt Hummel doing rock. No thanks man. That's an adventure I don't want to go through again."

Kurt actually slapped the papers down at that one. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Dude, we all remember Mellencamp. Face it, you can't do rock n' roll."

He stated it like it was grand obvious truth that no one spoke about because they already knew, like Ryan Seacrest's sexuality. Kurt was a little flustered by his own anger, and grasped for some kind of defense for the rude accusation.

"Well okay, it's not my _usual_ style. And maybe doing Mellencamp wasn't the best choice, but it doesn't mean I'm otherwise incapable! The Beatles are a British _rock_ band, after all."

"Yeah, but that doesn't count. You soften those up so they're not even rock. They're just ballads." He happened to glance up, and right away noticed how angry the countertenor looked. "Hey Kurt, relax, you've got nothing to prove. The music that you like is okay; I can do a duet with it no problem. Besides, you don't even like rock that much do you?"

Kurt opened his mouth to give back a biting reply, but then he realized that Puck was right. He wasn't exactly a fan of the genre; that was more Blaine's thing. And he certainly couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a rock song that he really wanted to sing. But it was just in his nature to fight back when someone said he couldn't do something…even if he didn't really want to do it.

"I suppose you're right, Noah. But I was just trying to point out that I wanted your input for our song choice."

Puck smirked and grabbed some more music books. "Awesome. Let's get jamming."

(Asterisk)

Kurt smiled at the sound of his dad's truck pulling in the driveway, and continued to stir the batter for vegan cupcakes. Rachel gave him the recipe.

Pretty soon his dad and stepbrother came tromping in, their arms full of bags from the hardware store. They were planning on jointly tackling Carole's Honey-Do list she had posted to the fridge.

"Hey dude," Finn greeted with a smile. "How's—aw, sweet, cupcakes!"

He made a dive for the bowl, but Kurt managed to fend him off, brandishing the spatula threateningly. "Finn Hudson, you stick even one of those meaty digits into my batter, and I promise I will never bake for you again!"

The older boy's eyes comically widened, and Burt chuckled as he set the bags at the table. "He means it too. One time he held out making me homemade pie for a whole year."

Finn held up his hands in a surrendering gesture and stepped back. "Okay, okay. Can I just have first dibs, then?"

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "Sure Finn, why not?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed, and strolled over to the island as Burt got something out of the refrigerator.

"So how was school Kurt? Finn said you guys were assigned Duets this week." Burt leaned against the counter and took a long drink from his Budweiser.

"Yeah, Puck's my partner," Kurt replied, pouring the contents of the bowl into the cupcake tray.

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna sing?"

He shrugged as he slid the tray into the oven. "Well he said we could sing Broadway or Gaga if I wanted, but we really haven't decided yet. I _told_ him that I'd be willing to do something else, like a rock song or…" He trailed off at the sound of the other men in the kitchen snickering.

He slowly turned around and pinned them with a stare, instantly putting a stop to their chuckles.

"And just what's so funny about that," he asked carefully, as if he didn't already know.

Finn and Burt looked at each other cautiously, then back at Kurt. Finn, being the braver, (or more foolish) of the two, answered. "It's just…you know, rock songs Kurt. You're not exactly known for singing them. Well, except one, of course, and that was a disaster."

Kurt bristled, and started drumming his finger nails on the counter.

"He means that genre isn't really in your wheelhouse buddy," Burt explained in defense of his stepson, well-aware of Kurt's short fuse.

"I see. That makes sense I suppose." The countertenor placed his bowl in the sink and grabbed a dishrag, feeling that irrational anger swell to life again. _Don't get your dander up, you don't even like that sort of music, just let it go. You've got nothing to prove._

"Yeah. And the music you sing is really cool already Kurt; it's no big deal if you can't do rock."

Kurt whipped around to glare at his stepbrother, and the older boy shrunk into his seat, his eyes widening in fear.

"Who says I _can't_ do rock, Finn? One lousy mistake and I suddenly lose all my versatility as a performer? Just because I don't commonly sing it doesn't mean I _can't _do it, damnit!"

He threw the dishrag into the sink, stormed out of the kitchen and marched up the stairs in a huff. Growling to himself, he pulled out his phone and rolled through his contacts while he thundered up the stairs. As he waited for someone to pick up he stomped into his bedroom, refraining from slamming the door shut. A confused voice finally sounded from the other end of the phone line.

"Kurt? What's up man," Puck asked.

"We need to start rehearsing Puck! And we're _not_ doing showtunes, or Lady Gaga, or the Beatles!"

"But…then wha—"

"Fire up your guitar Puckerman! Kurt Hummel is about to rock the socks off New Directions!"

TBC

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><p><strong>I've got to admit, so far Rachel was definitely the most fun to write! This chapter is pretty much establishing which duet pairings this story will focus on. I'm not gonna make a big deal out of the FinnxBlaine duet, but people just seemed interested in seeing their awkwardness, so have some awkward Finn everybody! Their upcoming duet will be awesome, and I <strong>**really**** wish it would happen on the show. Thank you for the alerts and the reviews everybody; they're very encouraging! And I'm actually really excited to have this story posted, so I hope you enjoy it!**

**PS: Dear RIB, my birthday is one month away. I am wish-wish-wishing for a klaine make out scene by then because that would be the greatest birthday present ever! Pretty pretty please, and thank you! ;)**


	3. Tuesday

Title: Duets Part Deux – Chapter 3.

Started: 6/6/11 3:30 p.m.

Finished: u/k

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.

**A/N: Yay! In chronological order this time!**

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><p>Santana shoved her hands into the back pockets of her skirt as she combed the halls. Glee practice was about to start and nobody had seen hide nor hair of Artie since before last period. And since she was his duet partner Mr. Schue told her that it was her job to go find him. Normally she would have refused, especially since she was trying to get Brittany's attention for two freaking seconds, but she figured she owed the little twerp a favor since he was good to his word and told everyone that they made the beast with two backs in the library.<p>

And so far it seemed to have worked. Not one whisper had been uttered today about her being a lesbian. Instead the boys were shamelessly ogling her and the girls were gushing with envy over her outfit. And damn well they should: tight denim skirt with brown boots and a lacy yellow top under a faux-fur shrug. She was a knock-out.

But it still irked her a little that Artie had been so nice to her. His first girlfriend broke up with him for another boy, and his second girlfriend broke up with him because…well, because of Santana. And as depressed as he had been since school started back up it clearly affected him. But for whatever reason he wasn't angry at anyone, or bitter. He was just sad. A sad and pathetic loser. _Well, more than usual._

She was so lost in her own musings she almost missed the faint sound of someone tuning an electric guitar. She stopped for a second so she could pinpoint where it was coming from, but the music had stopped abruptly, leaving the hallways barren and silent again. The Latina turned around, and her eyes caught the door to the auditorium. The guitar wasn't playing anymore, but she decided to check anyway, making purposeful strides to the door.

She quietly opened it and looked towards the stage. There was a faint silhouette framed in the darkness and she squinted, trying to make out what it was until a spotlight suddenly came on, illuminating the figure of Artie Abrams. He was staring with intense focus at his guitar, plucking the strings anew as he sat in his wheelchair, all alone in the middle of the stage, looking more sad and pathetic than ever.

He stopped playing suddenly, and looked into the light. She was about to yell at him to get his ass into glee, when he began to sing.

"_Have you heard about the lonesome loser, beaten by the queen of hearts every time. Have you heard about the lonesome loser, he's a loser but he still keeps on tryin.'_"

He looked down at his guitar and began expertly playing the opening notes while Santana stood awestruck in the back of the auditorium.

"_Unlucky in love, least that's what they say. He lost his head and he gambled his heart away. He still keeps searching, though there's nothing left. Staked his heart and lost, now he has to pay the cost. _

_Have you heard about the lonesome loser, beaten by the queen of hearts every time. Have you heard about the lonesome loser, he's a loser but he still keeps on tryin.' _

'_It's okay', he smiles and says. Though this loneliness is driving him crazy, he don't show what goes on in his head. But if you watch very close you'll see it all._"

Santana had moved to the front row by now, keeping as quiet as possible so she didn't disturb the performance. As Artie started playing the guitar portion of the interlude she thought to herself that he was definitely showing what was going on inside his head. His face was a portrait of anguish as he strummed the contrastingly cheerful notes, and the upbeat lyrics sounded unusually woeful and lost. She felt the twinge of guilt from yesterday metastasize from her stomach into her chest, giving her an unfamiliar ache that most people knew as pity.

"_Sit down, take a look at yourself. Don't you want to be somebody? Someday somebody's gonna see inside. You have to face up, you can't run and hide!_

_Have you heard about the lonesome loser, beaten by the queen of hearts every time. Have you heard about the lonesome loser, he's a loser but he still keeps on tryin.'_"

The song slowly faded out, and Artie sighed, setting the guitar upright in his lap so he could wipe his eyes. The Latina fought back her own tears, clearing her throat around a lump and unknowingly alerting Artie to her presence.

"Oh, hey Santana. What's up?"

She put her hands on her hips and quickly turned away so he couldn't see how emotional she had gotten. "You're late for glee practice," she said defensively, trying to sound irritated that he had wasted her time, and not so miserably heartbroken by his song that she was moved to tears. "Quinn and Britt are performing today. They're doing _Can't Hurry Love_ and they want to start, so just get a move on, would you?"

Santana bit her lip at the acid in her voice, knowing that came off far angrier than it needed to be, even by her standards. Artie didn't reply though. The only sound was the easy glide of his wheels across the stage, and she took that as complying with her demands. She speed-walked out of the auditorium, and once outside she leaned against a row of lockers, taking a second to compose herself. She was rarely moved by music in such a way, but Artie's performance almost had her openly weeping. _And if I'm bawling like I just watched Bambi's mom get shot from only _watching_ him I can't imagine how _he_ must be feeling_.

Santana huffed out a breath and wiped her eyes. First glee practice. Then time for feelings.

* * *

><p>Puck groaned and jammed his temple against his palms. "Okay," he said with exaggerated patience. "We've been at this for two hours and you've nixed Bon Jovi, Seger, Clapton, Pink Floyd, Poison, Styx, The Eagles, ACDC, Rush, Tom Petty, ZZ Top, Aerosmith, Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Springsteen, Deep Purple, Foreigner, Zappa, Kiss, _and_ The Rolling Stones! I-I…Dude, do you even know what rock _is_?"

Kurt fidgeted uncomfortably on Puck's couch and tried to maintain eye-contact. He had to; it was either look at Puck directly, or face any one of the bizarre-looking stains around the room and fearfully speculate what each one might be. There was a particularly bright orange one right next to him on the couch cushion that he was trying to scoot away from. He'd never been to Puck's house before, for many obvious reasons, and now that he was there all he wanted to do was leave. And take a shower. A really hot shower.

"Yes, Puckerman, I am _aware_ of what rock is! Most of those people are in my dad's collection. Except for Zappa…which ones are they again?"

Noah's head plunked onto his TV tray with a long-suffering groan. Kurt flinched as his mohawk got dangerously close to a congealed red puddle of something that in the prime of its life might have been ketchup. "Puck, don't get discouraged. I'm sure we can still come up with a suitable duet."

The older boy looked up, narrowing his eyes at Kurt disbelievingly before he suddenly brightened. "Oh! Dude! I've got it! Bowie! David Bowie! He's popular, he kicks ass, _and _he rocks! Plus he used to dress like a chick, so you'll relate to him or something!" Kurt's eyebrow rose in response, but Puck didn't notice; he had stood up and began pacing excitedly. "What's that song he did with Queen? Damn, damn, damn, what is it? I used to _love_ that song, and I can't even remember the name of it now! Let's check Google!"

He was halfway to his laptop (with a skull-and-bones lid) when Kurt halted him. "No Puck! What did I tell you?"

Puck flinched and whipped around. "Oh come on Hummel, nobody's gonna—"

"For the last time, we are _not_ doing a song by Queen! My God, the gay jokes Santana would pummel me with…"

Puck shrugged. "Well okay, he did a duet with Mick Jagger too, we can do—"

"No Mick Jagger either! I told you, I hate The Rolling Stones."

"How can you hate—"

"Next!"

Puck groaned and flung himself back on the couch. "You're killing me Hummel. Can't we _please_ do something else?"

"Absolutely not! I said that I could rock, and I have every intention of doing it." Kurt shifted and hesitantly reached for a paper resting on the coffee table. Lines of red and blue ink were drawn across dozens of rock musicians and song titles, each suggestion vetoed for one reason or the next. "Okay, um…how about REO? _Can't Fight This Feeling_ sounds perfectly charming."

"Yes!" Puck held out his hands in relief and quickly sat back up, scooting closer to Kurt like he was beginning to see the light at the end of a tunnel. "Yeah, dude we can totally sing—"

"Ugh. Wait, never mind," Kurt said flippantly, letting the paper slide from his fingers onto the couch.

"Wha…wha…_why_?" Puck demanded feebly, looking so utterly crest-fallen Kurt almost changed his mind. Almost.

"I don't like the romantic connotations. If I _were_ to do a song like that, I'd have to sing it with Blaine."

"But Blaine's not your—"

"Exactly. Moving on."

Puck grabbed a cushion from behind Kurt and buried his face in it, letting out a muffled scream into the cheap cotton padding. The countertenor rolled his eyes, unimpressed. And people thought _he_ was a drama queen?

* * *

><p>Rachel smoothed her skirt, fixed her hair, and set her smile to Charming Young Lady as she waited for the Changs to answer the doorbell. She brought over a pink briefcase filled with music sheets in preparation for their duet, all of the songs heavy on a female lead.<p>

Normally the poster-child for punctuality, she found herself at Mike's house ten minutes earlier than planned thanks to the Superstar CD that Kurt had given her, filled with all of their favorite Broadway songs. He had warned her that it would probably make her drive faster than she normally would, and it turned out he was right. The more dramatic part of Rachel wanted to believe that it was her subconscious mind telling her that to be singing alongside such greats and finally realize her dreams all she had to do was drive a little faster, a little farther, all the way to New York City. But her more realistic side understood that she was just tapping the gas in rhythm to the beat.

An aging Asian woman, presumably Mrs. Chang, opened the door, and Rachel was privately giddy to find they were the same height.

"Rachel?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied, using her most polite voice.

"Oh! Please come on in. I'm sorry dear, you're a little early so I wasn't expecting the doorbell."

Rachel obediently stepped inside. "Oh there's nothing to apologize for. It's lovely to meet you Mrs. Chang." She offered her hand and Mrs. Chang took it with a wrinkled smile.

"You too darling; I've heard the nicest things about…I've heard a lot about you!"

Rachel almost frowned at the amended sentence, but she managed to hold her tongue. "Thank you, ma'am; I've heard a lot about you too. Is Mike ready?"

"Oh I'm not sure. But you're welcome to check! I think he's in the music room. It's just down that hall, third door on the right."

Rachel nodded in appreciation and started towards the door, a little puzzled at the idea of Mike Chang being in a music room. He was most likely practicing his latest dance moves. But, perhaps he was just being courteous and waiting for Rachel to arrive. It was actually turning out to be rather nice to have Mike as a duet partner. He lacked any vocal talent, but he was very compliant to her leadership, he was willing to get a head start on practice, and as a dancer he outperformed everyone. _Yes, I can make this work._

She didn't even consider knocking, blowing past the closed door and taking light, speedy steps to the center of the room when she was stopped cold by the sight of Mike.

Not Mike doing a stellar dance routine, not Mike rocking out to Guitar Hero. But Mike, Mike Chang, sitting in the corner of the room, playing a high-glossed cello that rested between his knees as he sang a slow, melancholy tune.

She didn't recognize the song, but she believed that was because he was singing in Chinese. His pitch was just slightly off, and he sounded shaky, but that probably stemmed from a lack of confidence in his own voice. All in all though, it was much better than his performance of _Sing_. For this song he was singing properly, through his diaphragm and not his nose, and she could almost _feel _his soul reverberating through his voice. His fingers were steady and sure as they pulled the bow over the strings, like he had been practicing since he was young.

Rachel placed her hand over her heart, feeling it flutter in response to the music, and she felt humbled by his skills with the graceful instrument. For all their work with dance and vocal lessons, her dads had never been able to teach her how to play an instrument properly. And here was Mike Chang, whom they had all written off as lacking any musical aptitude, playing a cello with all the expertise and precision of a professional. As he drew the song to its presumed close she couldn't help bursting into applause, balancing her briefcase under her arm.

Mike jumped in surprise and leapt out of his chair, his face bright red and a loose fist hovering at his side while his other hand still forcefully clenched the bow.

"Oh Mike, that was lovely! You can play the cello? Why didn't you tell me; we can utilize this for the duet com—"

"Rachel you're not supposed to be in here!"

Rachel paused, a little taken aback at his irrational anger. She'd never seen Mike mad before.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know—"

"The door was shut; you could have at least _knocked_!"

"Alright, I'm sorry! Your mom said you were in the music room. I'd be happy to wait outside while you—"

"Actually, Rachel, I'd really like it if you left."

Her eyes widened. "Wha…left?"

He set the bow on a nearby desk and turned around. "Yes, please. Please leave."

Rachel took a breath, confounded by his strange reaction, but better than anyone, she knew a dramatic demand when she saw one. "Okay." She slowly backed away, un-tucking her briefcase from her arm as she reached for the doorknob. But ever one to try and get the last word, she stopped just before she was out the door. "But just for the record, Mike…I think you're very talented."

She slipped out of the room.

* * *

><p>"So I <em>had<em> to take a shower the minute I left. I swear, Noah Puckerman has the least hygienic house I've ever been to. I'm lucky I got out of there free of diseases."

"Poor baby," Blaine said with a grin, sitting on the bed as Kurt worked on the beginnings of a duet costume at his sewing machine. He wanted to get started on it early so he decided to bring his sewing supplies to Blaine's house. He was wearing a pincushion on his wrist and measuring tape around his neck as he hunched over his work.

Kurt held out the panel of fabric and smiled approvingly. "How about you," he asked, getting out of the chair and moving to his dress-maker's mannequin. "How's the duet with Finn coming along?"

"So far so good. It was a little awkward at first, but I think we've picked a fun song to compete with. And practice is going really smoothly."

Kurt grinned and set about pinning the fabric to the mannequin. "Ooh, do I get a preview?"

Blaine grinned back and leaned back on the bed, crossing his arms confidently. "Now how is that fair, you guys haven't even picked a song. Why _haven't_ you picked a song yet, anyway? I thought you said Puck was cool with whatever you wanted to perform."

The countertenor sighed and plucked a ball of lint from the fabric. "Well, he was. But I amended what type of music I thought we should do, so choosing a new song has become a bit…taxing."

He had stayed at Puck's house for four hours, combing through different songs, and they still weren't able to come up with a song that suited both their voices. He finally had mercy on Puck when the older boy collapsed onto the floor in frustration and banged his fists into the carpet. Kurt was trying not to get equally discouraged, but he was quickly realizing how fruitless it was to try singing a genre where his options were so limited. He was beginning to consider relenting, and letting Puck choose whatever genre he wanted.

"What type of music did you have in mind," Blaine asked innocently.

The brunette braced himself, adjusting a stitch on his shirt to avoid looking at his boyfriend. "Rock n' roll," he mumbled.

The older boy hummed thoughtfully and the Kurt heard the mattress shift next to him. "Well that's a pretty good idea."

Kurt paused and looked into hazel eyes with a hopeful smile. "You think so?"

"Sure," Blaine agreed amiably, and scooted off the bed to wrap his arms reassuringly around Kurt from behind. "I think this will be a great opportunity to stretch your vocal abilities."

"Okay Rachel," he said jokingly, leaning back into the touch as his boyfriend started kissing his neck.

Blaine laughed and nipped at his shoulder as a retort. "I'm serious. I don't think I've seen you take the lead on a rock song in all the time I've known you, so I'd love to hear you sing something different."

"Oh really?"

The ex-soloist continued, but with the absence in his voice it almost sounded like he was thinking out loud. "Although, maybe you might want to try doing it when there's not a competition assignment. You know, nothing riding on your performance."

"…And why is that," he asked suspiciously.

He felt the slightly shorter boy shrug and squeeze his waist a little tighter. "Well, like I said, I haven't heard you sing something like that before, and if you want to win, you'll want to go with your strengths."

Kurt tensed as he heard the words leave Blaine's lips, and that defensive fury came back in droves, like an irritating mosquito bite he'd just remembered was still itching. He released his shirt and stepped out of his boyfriend's arms, turning to face him slowly and calculatingly. He raised an eyebrow almost dangerously high, and asked in a deceptively sweet voice, "What are you saying, Blaine? That rock can't be one of my strengths?"

His boyfriend seemed to realize that somewhere along the line he'd said or done something wrong, and he held out his hands in apology for his unknown offense. "No, not at all. It's just…you remember last year when you said I'm usually top 40? Well, you're usually…Broadway."

"So what, I'm a one-note performer? Or are you just calling me a hypocrite?"

Blaine's eyes widened and he looked around the room, then back at Kurt in disbelief, probably wondering just how in the hell he had come to _that_ conclusion. "Wha…no! No, I wasn't saying that at all, Kurt."

"Mmm…if you don't mind I think I'll finish this at home."

Blaine floundered, his mouth hanging open. "A-Are you sure? I wo—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine," he said, his voice about an octave higher than usual. He quickly folded up his costume and unplugged his sewing machine. "I should probably be helping Carole with dinner anyway. My dad's getting better at coaxing desserts out of her, so they need me to supervise."

"Kurt—"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt told him, and he was about to storm out of the room, Rachel Berry style.

_No_.

He clenched the handle of his sewing machine case, and in a brief moment of maturity leaned over, and kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "See you at school."

TBC

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, totally laughing my ass off that after I start writing this a whole bunch of possible spoilers get leaked about another duet episode. Loving life! :) Thank you guys for all the encouragement, and an even BIGGER thank you for your patience! For some reason my confidence took a big hit when I started my Creative Writing class, so I hope that doesn't affect my writing too much. Also, I took some lyrical liberties; I figure if the show does it, I can do it. This one was written in a SLIGHT rush, so I hope it turned out to your liking. I love you all, and thank you again!<strong>


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